


A Gift to his Queen

by SterlingSilver



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Romance, Short One Shot, hohenheim is a disaster, oh well, this is a mess, trisha loves her dumb himbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterlingSilver/pseuds/SterlingSilver
Summary: Trisha's birthday is coming up, and Hohenheim is panicking trying to come up with the perfect present for her.
Relationships: Trisha Elric/Van Hohenheim
Kudos: 10





	A Gift to his Queen

Hohenheim paced anxiously up and down the hall.

This was the end for him. It was all over. He was doomed, doomed to death, doomed to worse than death, doomed to a life of misery and pain and-

“Honey?”

Hohenheim snapped out of his thoughts with a start, spun around and came face to face with his fiancé, Trisha Elric, who was standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face.

“Trisha, I, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”  
“Well, off course you didn’t. When you get in your head like that you’re practically dead to the world.”  
Her smile softened, and she cocked her head to the side.  
“Is this about my birthday?”

Hohenheim paused, prepared to defend himself, then sighed and nodded miserably.

Trisha laughed, but it wasn’t an unkind laugh – god, Hohenheim doubted Trisha could ever act unkindly even if she tried – no, it was a lighthearted, ‘don’t worry about it’ kind of laugh.  
“You don’t have to worry about it sweetie. Anything you get me will be amazing, I’m sure of it.”  
Hohenheim seriously doubted that. But he didn’t voice these concerns, instead choosing to lean forward into his love’s peck on the cheek, then smile absentmindedly at her goodbye as she wandered back to whatever she’d been doing before.

Hohenheim was a logical man, and logically he knew that Trisha was right, and that she’d love whatever he got her. However, this was the last birthday he’d be celebrating with his fiancé before she became his wife, and he wanted to get her something she’d remember.   
And so, he racked his brains, trying to think of all the things that Trisha had ever said she had liked.  
Cricket? No, he’d gotten her a cricket bat for her birthday last year.  
A nice necklace? No, there weren’t any good jewellers in Risembool.  
A scarf then? No, he’d gotten her about sixty at the latest Risembool sheep festival.  
So what else did Trisha like? What else could he possibly get her?  
Hohenheim groaned and sank to the floor in defeat. His ideas were completely and utterly extinguished. The only thing that could save him was some kind of hero.

It came to him then. The perfect idea, the idea that would save him from the non-existent threat of disappointing his soon-to-be wife. And now all that he asked himself was, how had it taken him this long to realise it?

Trisha yawned, pulling herself with an effort into a sitting position. She’d just been having some kind of dream – what dream, she couldn’t remember, but it had been a pleasant one. One with lots of sunshine, and flowery fields, and the man she loved. Speaking of which…

She turned around, but wasn’t surprised to see him not in the bed next to her. He had a habit of getting up and going to sleep whenever the mood took him – which wasn’t necessarily compatible with what was considered conventional, or even healthy. So it wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up in an empty bed - or even for her to wake up next to a sleeping form that hadn’t joined her the previous night.

Trisha was then distracted from her musings by a heavy scraping noise.

Frowning, she sat up a little more in bed, trying to peer around the doorframe. The scraping noise grew closer, and after a few seconds she heard some grunts of exhertion escaping from her fiancé. She couldn’t help it – a small giggle escaped. She suddenly knew, just knew, that her beloved himbo had gone incredibly overboard with his present for. Settling back down into bed, she soon saw his tall and somewhat awkward figure enter the room, dragging what looked to be a large and very heavy present.

Hohenheim’s face, reddened with effort as it was, lit up when he saw Trisha. “Happy birthday,” he puffed, pushing the box towards her with the last of his strength.  
Shaking her head amusedly, Trisha got out of bed, walking towards the gift. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, pecking Hohenheim’s cheek. “How many times have I told you that you don’t need to go so overboard?”  
Hohenheim flushed. “I – well, I remembered you told me once you liked fairy tales, with princes and princesses and knights in shining armour –“ He cut himself off, gesturing to the present, which Trisha had begun unwrapping and was now opening, with a little trepidation, in order to see what was inside. She pulled apart the flaps – and froze.

Hohenheim froze too, anxiously studying her face. Was she upset? Disappointed? Angry? Oh, God, she was angry with him, she was going to call of the wedding, she – 

She was laughing?

Yes – Trisha was laughing, crying tears of genuine mirth, stomach shaking with the force of her laughter. Forcing herself to stifle some of her giggles, she asked Hohenheim “Where – where did you –“ – that was as far as she got before dissolving into laughter again.

Almost collapsing with relief, Hohenheim answered “The antique shop, just across from the station.” Then, chewing his lip nervously, he asked “Do – do you like it?”  
Trisha looked her almost-husband full in the eye, genuine, real love in her eyes. “Yes, honey. Yes, I love it.” She gave him another kiss on the cheek, saying “It’s just so – you! And I love that!” Finally, she wrapped him in hug, and whispered in his ear “It’s perfect honey. Thank you.”

Hohenheim felt tears of his own spring into his eyes – tears of an overwhelming sort of happiness that he still wasn’t used to, happiness only Trisha could make him feel, happiness that, prior to meeting Trisha, he hadn’t felt since the Dwarf in the Flask had transmuted his country.

Behind the happy couple, within the box, sat a huge and perhaps overdecorated vintage suit of armour. And neither Trisha nor Hohenheim knew just how important it would end up becoming to their family.

**Author's Note:**

> this came about because I'm pretty sure we're never actually told how Hohenheim got Al's armour, just that he has it for some reason. obvioulsy, the only thing I could do was write a short story on it.


End file.
